I tend to resist change.
Once I find a metaphorical container for my watery nature, I stay there. (This has not worked out well for me, historically.) But whether I’m comfortable or not, change happens.
And how can I really argue with it when the change is exactly what I’ve wanted and worked for my whole life?
So welcome to my new home on the internet.
I haven’t unpacked all the way, of course, I only moved in yesterday. I’m keeping it simple - I’m a writer, not a web designer. I’ve still got that ‘scrappy little nobody’ attitude, doing it myself until I don’t have to.
Mostly the benefit here is that it’s in my name (well, it will be as soon as the domain transfer comes through,) there’s room to grow, and there are no ads.
With the housekeeping and nickel tour out of the way, I can get to the meat of today’s post: the idea of creative scarcity.
Whenever an idea comes, there is a surge of success when you’re able to solidify that idea into something you can work with.
The rush of creative excitement will at some point transform into fear - fear that the idea will buckle under the weight of scrutiny, and an even greater fear that there will be no more ideas. Each one is your last chance to make something of yourself.
For the writer who would like to get paid, those ideas equate to things like rent, or new brakes, or even coffee.
So we hide the ideas away, grooming them and improving them until we’re ready to send them out for the approval of the people with the money. We may even shape them from the beginning to suit the market, give them a better chance - like a pageant contestant choosing her dress color based on research into which color has won the most pageants.
But the thing is, the ideas don’t care about rent or coffee or whether or not your car will pass inspection. They want you to tell their stories, and it’s your job as a writer to do so.
I personify ideas as butterflies. (well let’s be true to the truth, here, I personify everything. Just not as butterflies. Only ideas are butterflies.) When you let one land on you and you appreciate and admire and respect it and don’t immediately try to capture it and sell it to the highest bidder or really anyone who wants a butterfly … word spreads in idea-butterfly-land that you’re good people, and more butterflies will visit.
Look, I’m not saying writers should write everything for free forever. I’m saying there’s no harm in letting a few ideas go to ensure that more keep coming.
Why am I even saying this?
Because I recently wrote a story specifically for my newsletter- a SHORT story, way out of my normal arena, and it’s different and engaging and interesting and did I mention different? I asked my favorite writer friend to put eyes on it, and she was certain the story could sell to the right market.
Why was I wanting to give it away?
You know what? I almost didn’t. I had a big ol’ waffle moment where I was like “maybe I could sell it somewhere, dollars are nice …”
The entire lobe of my brain devoted to telling me when something is a bad idea (personified, as usual, by Hallucifer) then proceeded to play me a slideshow of every version of the Four of Pentacles I’ve ever seen, accompanied by the Red Hot Chili Peppers singing “give it away give it away give it away now” on repeat until I stopped thinking about clinging to the idea, withholding it “just in case.”
Long story short, I’m a madwoman who is about to give away something very, very cool.
If you’re not signed up for my newsletter yet, you should do that before noon on Tuesday.
(Clicking the picture of the story cover will take you to the newsletter, too.) (And remember, you ALSO get, for 100% free, the first two chapters of AWAKEN: Melody's Song Book 1 - weeks before the book officially releases on the 17th of April.)
The story goes live at 7pm EST, and ONLY the people on the mailing list are getting it.
So tell your friends. Or don’t. You do you. I’m just here for the gifs.